With our Smiles at Christmas campaign you can help to give innocent children maimed by the Mosul monsters the chance of a better life
Join the appeal to help the children whose lives have been torn apart by violence in the Middle East as we urge readers to donate money and toys to four very special charities
THERE is no mistaking the look of blank despair in the eyes of little Wijdan Zanoon as she lies in the chaotic frontline hospital.
The seven-year-old is missing her right leg — blown away in the crossfire between Islamic State maniacs and Iraqi forces battling to liberate Mosul.
In the bed opposite her is five-year-old Norhan Nashwan who has shrapnel embedded in her skull.
Two days ago the girls were strangers. Now, having both escaped the madness of IS, known locally as Daesh, they are drawn together as friends through their suffering.
Like 1.5million other civilians, including 600,000 children, they were trapped by IS snipers and suicide bombers inside Iraq’s besieged second city of Mosul.
Children used as human shields by barbaric cutthroats who insist they act in the name of Allah.
Now they are in the relative safety of Shikhan Hospital.
Once a local community hospital with just 50 beds, Shikhan is now a combat clinic, treating some of the hideous wounds inflicted by modern warfare.
It is partially funded by one of our Christmas charities, the Amar foundation, which provides vital medical supplies.
Amar, builder in Arabic, aims to rebuild lives in the Middle East which have been torn apart by terrorism. It is currently working to help those fleeing Mosul, where I have gone to see it in action.
The ambulance sirens announce the arrival from the frontline of more fighting men maimed by bullets and bombs — and blood-drenched civilians caught in the mayhem.
The hospital has three operating theatres but despite the growing humanitarian crisis, only one is functional due to a lack of emergency beds and monitors.
Along a corridor jammed with wailing relatives a fraught, white-coated doctor is at Norhan’s bedside to examine her X-rays.
He says she needs a further CT scan to decide how far the shrapnel has penetrated her brain and whether it can be safely removed.
Little Norhan hugs her doll tightly to her chest. When her mother Samar relates the family’s harrowing story, it’s little wonder Norhan is so fearful of letting go.
Samar, 30, tells how Norhan and her sister Wrood, two, were playing outside their home in the IS infested al-Qahira district of Mosul when she heard two huge blasts.
The pregnant mum-of-four, who doesn’t know who fired the mortars, says: “The girls were lying covered in blood. When we saw the shrapnel wounds we knew we had to get them to a doctor quickly.”
Her husband Nashwan, 35, a textile worker, carried Norhan while their 11-year-old son Ahem cradled a weakening Wrood as the family trudged for four hours, through gunfire and further bomb blasts, towards Iraqi army lines.
With tears in her eyes, Samar recalls: “We kept getting lost. Wrood was getting weaker and weaker. We finally reached the Iraqi soldiers but Wrood bled to death shortly afterwards.
“My heart is broken. If we had known the way then Wrood would have survived.”
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In her bed opposite, labourer’s daughter Wijdan offers a smile of comfort for her new friend
She too was spirited across the battle lines to Shikhan Hospital — 28 miles from Mosul and the only hospital in Nineveh Province not in IS hands.
At the beleaguered hospital she will eventually have a prosthesis fitted. Her mental wounds will doubtless take longer to heal.
Eleven of her extended family died in the bombed-out rubble of Mosul, including her father, 17-year-old sister and toddler cousin. Others were left maimed.
Her mother Shamsa, 40, tells me: “Daesh and the Iraqi army were all around our house. There were massive rockets, mortars and gunfire. The family hid under the stairs but we took a direct hit with a bomb. We have no idea who fired it.”
Then she gestures around the chaotic ward at the shattered remnants of her family.
In the bed next to daughter Wijdan is her son Faisel, 17, who has cerebral palsy, and suffered a head wound. Opposite is cousin
Hanna, 18, her right leg torn away and an elbow shattered in the blast. At Hanna’s bedside is her brother Amar, 23, nursing a shattered hip joint. He is weeping over a photo of his toddler Aya, who perished in the same explosion.
Hanna says: “After the bomb hit I saw my severed leg on the floor. I was conscious the whole time.
“We were taken to a Daesh-controlled hospital in Mosul. Our wounds were treated and we were sent home.”
A doctor later explains that in the heat and filth, Hanna’s wounds became infected with maggots.
Their only hope was to make it to the Iraqi army lines, from where they were taken by ambulance to Shikhan Hospital. Mum Shamsa, who is busily arranging soft toys around Wijdan’s bed, shrugs: “I don’t know what our future holds. We have nothing in the world but what we need most now is a wheelchair for Wijdan and Hanna.”
Hard-pressed doctors here are proficient enough — just hamstrung by a lack of medical equipment.
One, who asked not to be named for fear of IS retribution against his family still in Mosul, begs: “Please help us.”
The medic, 28, adds: “The battle for Mosul will not end soon. Many more like Wijdan and Norhan will come. We have a chronic shortage of operating equipment. We need the world to help.”
The charity Amar — founded in 1991 by Lady Emma Nicholson — uses locals to provide aid, treatment and education to needy children and adults.
Baroness Nicholson, who is also Amar’s chairman, visited the Shikhan clinic recently.
She said: “This hospital, this region, is on the very frontline of the war against Daesh. Already there are an extraordinary number of victims whose suffering is unbelievable.
“Mothers who have lost their children. Wives who have lost their husbands. And this is only the beginning. The war to liberate Mosul has only just begun.”
Amar is providing Shikhan with vital medical equipment including hospital beds and nebulisers, which deliver medicine to patients struggling to breathe. You can also help the overwhelmed hospital through The Sun’s Smiles at Christmas appeal.
Hospital manager Dr Ehab Alrigh, 52, says: “The majority of people we are treating have blast injuries to limbs. But we don’t have a bone drill or the bone fixations to mend the shattered limbs.”
As we leave, a small boy of about six is carried in screaming for emergency treatment.
Dr Alrigh’s courageous team, who quickly fix a drip into the child’s wrist, must worry whether their one operating theatre is free if surgery is required.
And then where the little boy will spend the night.
For the ward where Wijdan and Norhan lie clutching their soft toys has no more empty beds.
Our aim is to rebuild torn lives
OUR Smiles At Christmas appeal urges readers to donate money and toys, which will be divided between these four charities – , , and the .
Established in 1991, Amar – which is “builder” in Arabic – has been rebuilding lives in the Middle East since the first Iraq War.
Backed by Prince Charles, Amar has provided 662,152 vaccinations since 2007 and sees 500 patients a day in two clinics in Iraq. A gift of £30 will provide a family with food for a week.
Give cash
Online:
Text: To give £2, text KIDS55 2 to 70070. You can change the amount to £3, £4, £5 or £10 by changing the last figure to 3, 4, 5 or 10.
Post: Send a cheque, made payable to JustGiving Foundation, to JustGiving The Sun Appeal, Bluefin Building 2nd Floor, London SE1 0TA
Give toys
You can donate new or used toys in good condition at 1,370 branches of McColl’s convenience stores.
Toys “R” Us will accept new toys only — look for special Sun trolleys near entrances.
Tell pals
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Or tweet using #SmilesAtChristmas to let us know how you’re getting involved!